


The Memoirs of Warlord Jeebilus

by IagharTheAxe



Series: Warlord Jeebilus [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Argonians (Elder Scrolls), Elder Scrolls Lore, Gen, Memoirs, Morrowind (Elder Scrolls), Morrowind Main Quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IagharTheAxe/pseuds/IagharTheAxe
Summary: A series of short books recounting the life of my Morrowind Character, Warlord Jeebilus. They are written as if he wrote them himself and each volume (or chapter) is about the length of a book you would find in game, but on the longer side.
Series: Warlord Jeebilus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195844
Kudos: 13





	1. Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Jeebilus writes these books in the third person because he finds it easier to view his past from an outside perspective. As he grows stronger and more sure of himself, it becomes more of an ego thing where he becomes a little obsessed with his image. In practical situations he'll speak in first person, but that doesn't change his tendency to view himself from the outside. 
> 
> Hope that clears any possible confusion about what perspective this story is being told from!

# Volume 1: Weakness

Foreword:

When you hear the name “Warlord Jeebilus”, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? Is he Warlord Jeebilus the adventurer, the incarnate, the savior of Vvardenfell, the slayer of false gods? Or is he Warlord Jeebilus the outlander, the farming tool, the heretic, the murderer of your rightful gods? Whichever it is, there is one thing that Jeebilus knows for certain: you know his name and you know his deeds. The name Warlord Jeebilus demands respect, and should you oppose him it demands fear.

This is how it is, and this is how it should be. But Jeebilus would be a liar if he said it was always so. There was a time when no stories were told of Warlord Jeebilus; when few knew his name and even fewer knew his deeds. In the long memory of Mundus, it was not so long ago that he was a lowly and powerless lizard; clothed in rags and thrown in the hold of a boat headed for the strange and deadly island of Vvardenfell. In these volumes Jeebilus will write of his experiences, his thoughts and the lessons he’s learned that have aided him on his journey from weakness to unlimited power.

* * * *

For all of his life, Jeebilus has never been in control. He has never had a say in what he does, never had the power to make things the way they should be. From the moment he was able to walk he was told to steal, to run, and to hide. Did Jeebilus want to do these things? Did he want to sleep under creaking bridges, eat rotten fruit, and think of nothing more than what his next meal would be? No. But what choice did he have other than starvation and death? Did Jeebilus want to be caught stealing by the guards and thrown into the fighting pit like he was an animal? Did he want to kill his fellow beggars and thieves, some even his friends, for the entertainment of that bastard Sauvo? No. But what choice did he have other than his own demise? Did Jeebilus want to use skooma to escape his reality and destroy his mind? Did he want to suffer through every sober moment of his life as he shook and craved more of the foul substance? No. But what choice did he have when everything real existed only to torment him, and when there was nothing left to drink besides it?

  
Even after Iaghar appeared and freed Jeebilus from his physical chains, Jeebilus was nothing more than a rabid animal let loose; a killer, an addict, a survivor. And although Iaghar was his friend and his savior, there were times when he was the force at Jeebilus’s throat just the same as poverty, survival and addiction had been.

  
Whenever Jeebilus’s violent instincts rose to the surface, it was Iaghar who was there to stop him and hold him back. When Jeebilus tried to kill some belligerent drunk Dunmer who called him a scale-back it was Iaghar who fought him into submission. When Jeebilus’s body shook and he craved skooma it was Iaghar who would paralyze him and administer enough only to counteract his withdrawal. In these moments, Jeebilus was just as weak as he had always been, and Iaghar was the face of that weakness.

  
But despite all of these many years of suffering, there was a time when things did get better. Iaghar allowed Jeebilus to focus his rage against those who deserved it: skooma smugglers, monsters, brigands, necromancers, vampires and any others who preyed upon the innocent. But more importantly, Iaghar helped Jeebilus to unlock the power within himself to fight these forces of evil. He sparred with Jeebilus constantly; sharpening his reflexes and growing his strength of body. He taught Jeebilus to read, to write and to call upon the power of magic; expanding his knowledge and growing his strength of mind. These things gave Jeebilus what he craved; they gave him the power he needed to make things the way they should. For all of his life until this point the only power Jeebilus had was over his own pathetic life. The power to defend not only himself, but others as well was the greatest gift Iaghar ever gave to Jeebilus.

  
So for a few short years, Jeebilus was as close to being happy as he had ever been in his life. He could finally control himself, and to a limited degree he could control his life and the world around him. But of course, this was not to last.

* * * *

Jeebilus and Iaghar were travelling to the reported location of a skooma den hidden in the Great Forest of Cyrodiil, just West of the Imperial City. Iaghar had been approached by a wealthy Imperial man by the name Corvus Caelinius who offered them the job. Jeebilus thought it a bit strange for a noble to hire mercenaries for such a task, but the gold was too good for them to turn down. How Jeebilus regrets not investigating further. As they travelled through the woods they were watched and followed, and when the time was right the trap was sprung. Jeebilus found himself and his mentor surrounded and greatly outnumbered by a gang of armed and hooded assassins.

The next few moments unfolded in slow motion. Jeebilus half fought and half observed as the assassins closed in on him and Iaghar. He heard the clashing of steel and felt the rush of battle take hold as he and his mentor began to cut down assassin after assassin. As Jeebilus listened to his enemies cry out in pain and watched their blood fill the air he allowed himself a moment to take pleasure in the glory of battle. In this moment he was untouchable. Unkillable. As far as Jeebilus was concerned, he was a god.

  
And then that moment ended. The cacophony of adrenaline and glory filling the air turned suddenly into one of shock and grief that struck Jeebilus like lightning. He heard a cry of pain and horror that belonged not to an assassin, but to the man watching his back. He turned and he saw a poisoned dagger plunged not into the heart of his enemies, but into that of his one and only true friend. The lightning quickly transformed into thunder. A terrible storm of unbearable grief and insurmountable rage rose up inside him. Something snapped inside Jeebilus in that moment, and he let himself turn into the rabid animal he had worked so hard to free himself of.

  
The assassins stood no chance. Jeebilus moved with the speed of a diving cliff racer and struck with the force of a berserking ogre. All of the pain and the anger bottled up in the long years of Jeebilus’s short life came pouring out like a tidal wave. He cracked skulls and shattered bones with his mace until he broke the head off of its handle. Not slowing down for a heartbeat, he scooped Iaghar’s dwarven war axe off of the ground and swung it savagely; cleaving the limbs and detaching the heads of his assailants. It wasn’t long until only a single, terrified, assassin remained alive. Jeebilus grabbed the survivor and ripped the hood from his head to reveal the shuddering face of a bosmer.

“WHO SENT YOU!” Jeebilus roared at the frail little elf.

The name the elf stammered out sent an instant surge of recognition in Jeebilus’s memory.

“I-I-It was C-Corvus! Corvus Caelinius!”

It was the name of the very man who had hired Iaghar and Jeebilus to shut down the skooma den. Jeebilus forced every drop of information he could from the assassin and slit his throat the moment he revealed the location of his employer. Tossing aside the corpse of the bosmer, Jeebilus glanced at his mentor’s body and winced in pain at the sight. If he was going to pay his respects, it would have to be then and there.

  
Jeebilus gave Iaghar the best burial he could; laying him to rest with his axe clutched to his chest. Staring down at the mound of dirt now covering Iaghar’s lifeless body, Jeebilus felt strangled. Strangled once again by his own weakness, his own lack of power. And once the strangulation passed, all that was left was a scorching ball of fury so violent and powerful that it could engulf Oblivion itself. Jeebilus vowed to himself he would never allow something like this to happen ever again. He vowed that he would have vengeance, no matter the cost.

* * * *

And just as it had always been, Jeebilus was left without a choice. Did he want to do what he was about to do? No. But what other choice did he have? What else was there that he could do? It was these thoughts that led Jeebilus down the darkest path he ever walked.


	2. Darkness

# Volume 2: Darkness

Jeebilus marched with purpose through the forest that had become Iaghar’s grave. If he was going to catch Corvus he needed to move swiftly. From what he learned from the now dead assassin Jeebilus knew that Corvus was a skooma racketeer who had wanted Iaghar and his pet Argonian dead for several years. Many of his skooma production and distribution operations had been disrupted by Iaghar in the past which was bad for business. Jeebilus also knew that Corvus would be expecting his assassins to return soon to report their success, which meant that his guard would be down. It was the perfect, and likely only time for Jeebilus to get his revenge.

  
After a full day's march following the White Gold Tower looming in the sky Jeebilus finally left the Great Forest. He looked to the East and saw the great bridge over Lake Rumare leading to the grand Imperial city. He turned to look West and saw the Sun about three quarters through its daily journey across the sky. It was late afternoon, which meant there would still be citizens walking the streets. Jeebilus considered waiting until dark to launch his assault on Corvus, but the thought of letting him get away ruled that idea out instantly. Jeebilus had to get his revenge, and there was not a chance on Nirn he was going to wait a moment longer. The ball of fire that had possessed him after Iaghar’s death had yet to loosen its grip on him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Without Iaghar there to hold him back, Jeebilus was unchained.

  
Jeebilus resumed his march; moving forward in a straight, unchanging line like he was in a trance. He ignored the friendly greetings and gruff nods of acknowledgement offered to him as he passed through the nearby Weye settlement and across the bridge. People quickly altered their paths to avoid the mad argonian. Those who didn’t were bluntly knocked to the side. The annoyed shouts and strange looks directed at Jeebilus did nothing more than fuel the fire inside of him. How could they have the audacity to believe that their lives had any importance at all after what Jeebilus had been through?

  
Jeebilus continued his demented march through the sprawling Talos Plaza until he reached the lively roads of the Elven Gardens district. This was where he would find Corvus Caelinius.  
Now that he was here, Jeebilus realized he didn’t know his way around this region of the Imperial City, and he had killed the Bosmer assassin before he ever revealed the exact address of Corvus’s estate. Jeebilus snarled at this new complication. He stormed to the nearest tavern, Luther Broad’s Boarding House.

  
It took all of Jeebilus’s effort to effectively communicate with any of the patrons. Jeebilus already had terrible social skills, which when combined with his current mental state and imposing physical appearance made him rather unapproachable. Nonetheless, he managed to tame the fire inside him long enough to convince the barkeep he was simply a courier trying to deliver a message to the Caelinius estate and got the information he was looking for.

  
As Jeebilus left the tavern he saw a pair of patrolling guards walking in his direction and felt a sensation that he hadn’t in many years. Without Iaghar, Jeebilus was now a criminal again. He was about to do something that was illegal. His instinct was to duck into an alleyway or to find a bridge to hide underneath to avoid the guards. But then the ball of fire reminded him why he was here, and what it was that he needed to do. Corvus had murdered his only friend. He had ripped out the only light that existed in his life. There was no alternative - Corvus Caelinius had to die. And nothing was going to stop Jeebilus - not fear, not the law, not morality, not anything. The only person who cared for Jeebilus was dead, so what was there for him to be afraid of? The law had never protected Jeebilus, so why should he respect it? The world had never been fair or moral to Jeebilus, so why should he abide by made up rules about what was right and wrong?

  
With his resolve steeled, the final stretch of Jeebilus’s march commenced. He knew exactly where he was going to go and he knew exactly what he was going to do. The world around him continued like normal, as if nothing was wrong. Children chased each other on the streets, Black Horse Courier criers shouted reports of recent news and citizens milled about on their daily routines. Their indifference and ignorance caused a surge of anger in Jeebilus. He marched his way through the illusion of normalcy surrounding him until finally he arrived at the estate.

  
The fire within Jeebilus burned even hotter at the sight of the rich mansion laid out before him. He was only yards away from the man who had murdered Iaghar.  
Jeebilus’s mind flashed back to his memories of Iaghar. He remembered his friendly smile, his powerful presence and his firm, but kind hand. He remembered the goodness and the light that Iaghar had brought into his world. He remembered the closest thing he had to a father. And then his mind flashed back to Iaghar’s cry of pain, to the sight of a dagger piercing his heart. He remembered that he was eternally alone in a world of complete, utter darkness. And all so that Corvus Caelinius could make a little bit more coin off of the suffering of skooma addicts.

  
This sent a rush of hatred through Jeebilus so overwhelming that it almost caused him to burst. The ball of fire scorched his insides and blackened his mind. Jeebilus was bursting at the seams - he trembled with a primal rage stronger than any other he’d felt in his life.

Jeebilus was weak.

Jeebilus had no choice.

Unable to hold himself any longer, Jeebilus surrendered himself to the fire.

Beyond the front gate enclosing the estate Jeebilus spotted two bouncers guarding the front door of the mansion. He would dispatch them easily. Jeebilus unlocked the gate with an alteration spell and kicked it nearly off of its hinges. The bouncers noticed the intrusion instantly and shouted a warning at him. Jeebilus readied his spear and continued his march. Sensing his hostility, the bouncers drew their weapons as well.

  
The next few moments unfolded in a flurry. Jeebilus ran the first bouncer through with his spear, causing him to cry out in pain. Unable to dislodge his polearm quickly enough to meet the second bouncer, Jeebilus let go and struck him with a backhanded blow to knock him off balance. As the bouncer staggered backwards Jeebilus lunged forward and tore the man’s throat out with his bare teeth.

  
Jeebilus heard a scream of horror erupt behind him. He turned, with blood dripping from his mouth, and saw a woman staring at him in shock. She screamed again after seeing that the rabid animal had noticed her and ran away in fear.

The ball of fire exploded.

_How dare she judge Jeebilus! She has no idea what they’ve done to him! She’s just like the rest of them!_

Jeebilus roared in rage and launched a fireball after the screaming wench. It soared past his mark and into the busy streets of the city. A lucky few were able to dodge out of the way, but one elderly man wasn’t. The fireball rammed into him; blasting him off of his feet and sending him into the ground. In an instant the illusion of normalcy was shattered for those walking the streets of the Elven Gardens District. Panic broke out as people cried out and ran for cover.  
Jeebilus didn’t so much as flinch. He turned back towards the mansion and ripped his spear out of the abdomen of the first bouncer, eliciting a horrifying squelching sound and another, albeit weaker, cry of pain. Jeebilus unlocked the front door of the mansion with the same spell he used on the gate and shoved it open.

  
He was greeted by a spacious and welcoming living area, and the sight of a wealthy looking imperial man staring at him in horror. The man blubbered out pleas for mercy and began to back away fearfully. Jeebilus savored Corvus’s fear; it was sweeter than the finest of moon sugar to him. He stalked forward like a predator hunting its prey, and when Corvus had no space left to retreat he struck.

  
Jeebilus watched his spear impale Corvus through the abdomen and saw the man’s face contort in shock. Jeebilus lifted the spear up into the air and let the evil bastard slide down further along its shaft, savoring every moment of his demise. The ball of fire burned at an intensity greater than it ever had before. Jeebilus stood there fuming, holding Corvus in the air and watching with primal pleasure as his victim clawed at the empty air and writhed in agony until his eyes glazed over and he turned completely still.

  
And in an instant, the ball of fire was extinguished. Jeebilus suddenly came back to his senses and it finally dawned on him what he had done. He looked in terror at the corpse impaled upon his spear and threw both to the ground. The memory of his actions came flooding into his mind and he almost collapsed in self hatred and pity.

_What have I done?_

Before Jeebilus could truly process his new reality the heavy footfalls of Imperial Guards filled the air. He turned just in time to see a steel mace soaring towards his head. Jeebilus was sent into a world of darkness.


	3. The Prisoner

# Volume 3: The Prisoner

The first thing Jeebilus felt was his head. It pounded like a broken helmet under an armorer's hammer. Then he felt the armored gauntlets of imperial guards clamped around his arms and the weight of his body dangling below. He forced his eyes open and saw his legs being dragged along the well paved street below him. His body ached and his head throbbed, but that pain was nothing compared to what Jeebilus felt inside.

He had failed Iaghar. He had thrown away all of the compassion, instruction and trust that his mentor had tried to give to him. And now he was nothing more than a corpse being dragged to its grave, with Iaghar’s final legacy being one of murder and disgrace.  
Jeebilus had no choice but to watch as he was dragged through the streets of the Imperial City. Countless bystanders looked on in curiosity and horror at the bloodied argonian and the entourage of guards surrounding him. Parents shielded their children’s eyes and clutched them close. He had been reduced to nothing more than a bloody spectacle; just like he’d been when he fought in the ring so many years ago. Jeebilus should have been angered by this, but something had changed inside him. He knew what he had done. He knew that there was nobody to blame for this other than himself. Instead of giving into anger and defiance, he solemnly surrendered himself to his fate.

After what felt like an eternity, Jeebilus’s detainers finally arrived at the Imperial City Prisons. He took one final look at the clear blue sky as they brought him into the Bastion Tower at the center of the Prison District, knowing it was a sight he’d never see again. He was dragged past a set of sealed doors and down dark, stony staircases. Jeebilus didn’t bother trying to memorize the route they took like he had the first time he was imprisoned in Bravil so many years ago. Back then he had something to live for, a reason to escape. But now there was nothing left for Jeebilus in this world. Any shred of hope or desire to live he held onto had been stamped out by the series of misfortunes and tragedies that was his life.

* * * *

Jeebilus was no stranger to dungeons, but the Imperial City Prison was something else entirely compared to the cramped and decaying cell that he was used to in Bravil. The stones here were massive; placed by the ancient Aldmer of the merethic era.  
Jeebilus was brought to the end of a hallway and finally came to a halt. He felt the gauntlets clamped around his arms loosen for a moment as the guards began stripping him of his armor slapped metal irons around his wrists. The enchanted irons immediately began to drain his magicka, eliminating any chance of using an alteration spell to escape - something Jeebilus had no desire to do even if he could. One of the guards surrounding him produced a key and opened up the cell on the left side of the hallway, right before Jeebilus was roughly thrown inside. The door of the cell slammed shut and the guards marched off as he collapsed to the ground.

As Jeebilus rose to his feet he hit his head on something cold and hard and heard the rattling of chains. Wincing in pain, he looked up and saw a set of manacles hanging from the ceiling.  
Jeebilus paused to take a proper look at his surroundings. The cell was rather large, with enough room to fit at least a half dozen more inmates. There was a single wooden table with a stool, an empty bucket in the corner and some rough bedding on the ground. This was Jeebilus’s newest prison, and he hoped it would be his last.

Before Jeebilus had a chance to gather his thoughts he heard snickering from the cell across from him. 

“Hey, lizard! Was that blood I saw dripping from your mouth? What did you do, huh? Mistake a baby for a kwama egg?”

Jeebilus turned and saw a ragged dunmer sneering at him from the opposite cell.

“I hope you like that cage, scaleback. It’s where animals like you belong!” the dunmer said, his voice full of malice.

Jeebilus felt shame rush through him. Usually he would have easily ignored the hateful prejudices directed at him, but this time there was truth behind them. 

Jeebilus was a murderer. 

For all of the lives he had taken until this day, Jeebilus could reasonably believe that they were unavoidable or necessary. Those he had killed in the fighting ring during his adolescence were victims of the corrupt town guard more than they were of Jeebilus. Those he had killed while adventuring with Iaghar had been evil and deserving of death. But his actions this day were unforgivable. He had harmed innocents. He had become the very thing Iaghar taught him to fight against, and for that he could never forgive himself. 

“Aww… is the lizard feeling shy? Is he feeling sad? Maybe he would feel better, if he could only get to the lake outside and have a swim. It must break your heart, being so close to the water, knowing you’ll never get to swim again. That’s right, argonian, you’re going to die in here. You’re going to die!”

Jeebilus blocked out the dark elf’s goading and let himself collapse into the straw bedding laid out on the ground. He had no desire to be awake. He had no desire to be alive. 

* * * *

On the third day of his imprisonment the guard that brought Jeebilus his meals informed him that he was to be executed within the week. This came to Jeebilus as no surprise, and he faced his death with solemn resignation.   
As Jeebilus settled into his grave he found himself very deep in reflection and came to a sudden realisation. Jeebilus saw that he had always been in a cage; that he had always been a prisoner. He was just another victim of the whims of causality. For every chapter of his life the world around him had been at war with Jeebilus, and it had finally brought him here. To a place where he was nothing and had nothing. To the coldest and darkest dungeons below the Imperial City; his cage the physical embodiment of his imprisonment.

And in a twisted way, Jeebilus now felt more free than he ever had before. He had been stripped down to his lowest point. He had nothing to lose. He had nothing to fear. He was finally free...  
And then the execution was delayed. This puzzled and irritated Jeebilus. He had already come to terms with his death. What point was there in being alive any longer?

And then a week later it was delayed again. Soon, a blades agent began to come to Jeebilus’s cell and interrogate him daily. He asked strange questions: like the date of his birth and the identity of his parents. He asked where Jeebilus was born, what places he had been, what things he had done. Jeebilus couldn't fathom why these things were happening. He had murdered an innocent man and terrorized countless others. He didn’t deserve to live. Why did the imperials insist on tormenting him so? Why did they ask him such pointless questions? Why wouldn’t they let him die?

This continued for weeks, until Jeebilus was very close to trying to end his life himself. The past month had been a blur of grief, regret and hopeless confusion. There were only so many more sleepless nights of guilt and goading taunts from his obnoxious cellmate that Jeebilus could endure.

It was on one such night, with Jeebilus tossing and turning in his straw bedding, that he heard the clanking of legionnaire footsteps approaching his cell. He turned to see a pair of guards towering above him at the door of his cell, and watched in surprise and elation as one of them unlocked it.

“Come with us” said the guard on the left.

His time had finally come. He could finally leave the mortal fold and be free of its torments. Jeebilus walked to the guards gladly, and let them grip his arms behind his back as they led him to his grave. 

“Hehehehe! Looks like your time is up lizard! Oh guards, please don’t be too gentle with the creature. There’s a wild look in his eyes, if you’re not careful he’ll get you too!”

If there was one thing that Jeebilus was grateful for, it was that there would be no dark elves where he was going.


	4. Warlord

# Volume 4: Warlord

Jeebilus dreamed of ash and crimson. It was all he could see. He tried to shield his eyes and get to cover but it was hopeless. The ash clogged his eyes and his throat, and no matter how hard he pressed onward it felt as if he were walking in place.

Suddenly a shadow appeared in front of Jeebilus, and he looked up to see a great mountain, shrouded in crimson ash. The shadow of the mountain stretched its tendrils out towards Jeebilus, and a terrible presence beckoned to him. He tried desperately to run but he was frozen and could not move. The presence redoubled its efforts, calling out to Jeebilus, imploring him to enter the mountain, saying it was a friend. The shadow of the Mountain swept over Jeebilus as the presence grew angry and forceful, blaming Jeebilus for its sorrow. He tried to scream, but the ash in his throat silenced him.

Suddenly a thundercrack boomed and the crimson air became a deep blue. The mountain disappeared and the billowing gusts of the ash storm were replaced with the gentle pattering of rainfall. A powerful, but kind voice filled Jeebilus’s head and comforted him.

The landscape around Jeebilus began to transform rapidly, until all he saw was his reflection in an endless pool of water. His reflection warped and changed in the water as raindrops fell upon it, until it faded away and was replaced by a moon and star shining down from high in the sky.

“Wake up. We’re here.” said a rough voice.

The sound of a rocking boat began to slowly get louder as the dream faded.

“Why are you shaking? Are you okay? Wake up!”

Jeebilus snapped awake. The voice rousing him was as coarse and gravelly as the ash in his dream. Jeebilus looked up and saw a scarred and muscled dunmer offering his hand to him.

“Stand up… there you go. You were dreaming.” the dunmer said as he helped Jeebilus to his feet.

“I’m Jiub. What’s your name?”

“I am called Jeebilus”

“Well, not even last night’s storm could wake you. I heard them say we’ve reached Morrowind. I’m sure they’ll let us go.”

Jeebilus took a look around him. He was in the hold of an Imperial boat, surrounded by fishing baskets and cargo crates. The memory of the past few days began to come back to him. He had been taken East, first by carriage and now by boat. His day of execution had never arrived.

Jeebilus opened his mouth to speak as questions filled his mind, but Jiub silenced him.

“Quiet… here comes the guard.”

Sure enough, an Imperial guard was approaching the pair from the other end of the hold. He eyed the prisoners with suspicion after arriving at the doorway to their room, and then turned his attention towards Jeebilus.

“This is where you get off. Come with me.”

Not waiting for a response, the guard turned and began walking towards the staircase leading above deck. Jeebilus looked at Jiub expectantly, although he wasn’t quite sure what it was that he was expecting. An explanation perhaps? Comforting words? Jiub simply said “You’d better do what they say.”

And so, that was the last Jeebilus ever saw of the dunmer named Jiub. He had known him for only a brief moment, but Jeebilus still felt reluctant to leave him behind. They were in the same boat, both literally and figuratively, and Jeebilus could have used an ally for whatever trials lay ahead.

Jeebilus was led past more cargo and rows of sleeping cots before arriving at the staircase that led to the deck of the boat. The guard turned around and gave Jeebilus a reminder to keep things civil, not particularly trying to hide the threatening tone in his voice, before allowing him to ascend the staircase.

As Jeebilus climbed through the trapdoor leading above deck something immediately caught his eye. Across the water and to his right was a massive chitinous creature with insect-like legs and smaller, bent arms like those of a praying mantis. But even more strange was that part of its shell had been completely hollowed out, and there appeared to be someone sitting inside of it.

_What kind of place is this?_

Jeebilus barely had a moment to take in the sight before another guard approached him and instructed him to head down to the docks. Jeebilus was led across a short wooden walkway and into an Imperial Census and Excise office, where he was greeted by a rather eccentric old man.

“Ahhhh yes, we’ve been expecting you! You’ll have to be recorded before you’re officially released.”

Jeebilus was taken aback by this. They were expecting him? He was truly going to be released?  
The man asked Jeebilus a series of mundane questions as he filled out official paperwork. Once finished, he handed Jeebilus his release identification form. Jeebilus read the form and couldn’t believe what he saw.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________  
For release, by Emperor Uriel Septim VII’s decree, to the district of Vvardenfell in the province of Morrowind.

Name: Jeebilus  
Race: Argonian  
Class: Battlemage

Signed,  
Socucius Ergalla  
Agent of the Seyda Neen Imperial Census and  
Excise.

16th of Last Seed 3E 427  
_________________________________________________________________________________________

Jeebilus was being released on the request of the Emperor himself?! Why? What interest could the Emperor of Tamriel possibly have in a murderous argonian? And why would he send him to Morrowind, of all places?

  
As if sensing his confusion, the old man, or Socucius, instructed Jeebilus to take his release form to a “Sellus Gravius”, who was in the next building.

Jeebilus left the first building; walking past a small dining area and out into an enclosed courtyard. As he went to open the door to the next building a glinting light in the barrel by the door caught his eye. He looked inside and saw an enchanted ring lying on top of a pile of clutter. Jeebilus glanced around to make sure nobody was watching before reaching in and grabbing the ring. Who knows? It might prove useful.

Jeebilus entered the next building to see an imperial man dressed in the lavish Templar armor of the Imperial Legion, who he could only assume was Sellus Gravius. Confirming his assumption, the man asked Jeebilus for his release papers.

“Thank you.” he said while reading the papers over. “Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday. I am Sellus Gravius, but my background is not important. I’m here to welcome you to Morrowind”.

Jeebilus listened with rapt attention.

“I don’t know why you’re here. Or why you were released from prison and shipped here. But your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself, and I don’t need to know anything more than that. When you leave this office, you are a free... man. But before you go, I have instructions on your duties. Instructions from the Emperor. So pay close attention.”

He didn’t have to remind Jeebilus twice. So far he had only confused him further.

“This package came with your arrival” Sellus said as he handed a parcel of paper to Jeebilus.

“You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the town of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub, and ask for Caius Cosades - they’ll know where to find him. Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name.”

Sellus then handed Jeebilus another piece of paper as well as a small pouch of gold. Jeebilus clumsily accepted the items and couldn’t help but ask “Why is the Emperor releasing me? What has Jeebilus done to earn his freedom?”

“According to my instructions, he personally authorized your release from prison and your delivery here. It’s all very mysterious. But that’s the way the Empire works.” he said, sounding very resigned. “Silence. Secrecy. Let not the left hand know what the right hand is doing.”  
This hardly answered Jeebilus’s questions, but he figured there was nobody here who could besides this Caius Cosades character.

“Thank you… sir” Jeebilus said awkwardly.

“Of course. If you have no further questions, I suggest you make your way towards Balmora as soon as possible. Best of luck to you, argonian”

And with that, Jeebilus took his leave. He opened the door and let the sun finally shine on him as a free argonian.

As Jeebilus took his first steps out of the census office and into the town of Seyda Neen everything suddenly became real. His life until this point had been nothing but failures and weakness; an aimless prison where his fate was never in his own hands. But now he was free, his chains broken. His old fears, his old pains and his old weaknesses no longer mattered. They had already broken him, and now they were nothing more than shadows hiding in a distant land.

Whether it was luck, fate or somehow earned, Jeebilus now had another chance. A chance for rebirth. A chance for redemption. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

It was here that his real life began.

It was here that he decided that if the world was going to declare war on him, he was going to declare war right back.

It was here that Warlord Jeebilus was born.


End file.
